


but to me it seems quite clear

by blindmadness



Series: Bridgerton College AU [5]
Category: Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, F/M, Lady Danbury being herself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 12:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8979703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindmadness/pseuds/blindmadness
Summary: Hyacinth Bridgerton isn't at all sure how she feels about Gareth St. Clair, her faculty mentor's grandson, but she is sure that translating his other grandmother's diary is a challenge she wants to undertake.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelittlestdoc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestdoc/gifts).



> So it's more mundane than wacky, as AUs go, but let's be real, isn't anything involving Hyacinth and Lady Danbury guaranteed to be at least a little wacky? ;) I always welcome the opportunity to think about the Bridgertons in different settings, even if the differences are subtle. They're just such a delightful family.
> 
> Some bits of dialogue taken verbatim from _It's In His Kiss;_ title taken from "History Repeating," off of Julia Quinn's playlist for the book.

“Do you know what I think?” Dr. Danbury asks Hyacinth during this week’s Tuesday afternoon office hours.

“Usually,” Hyacinth says without thinking, and beams sweetly at her faculty advisor’s scowl.

“I think,” Dr. Danbury says, in the deep, intense voice of proclamation that she tends to use, “that we should write a book.”

Hyacinth blinks at her, then down at her computer, then back up at her. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she says slowly, “but if that’s not what we’ve been doing, I have some really bad news for you.”

This semester’s office hours have been preoccupied with Hyacinth working on the index for Dr. Danbury’s latest book; it’s a project usually reserved for graduate assistants, but Hyacinth and Dr. D have been close ever since a truly miserable freshman English class six semesters ago, and she appreciates the opportunity her mentor is giving her to further her career in ways usually not afforded to undergrads.

Dr. D rolls her eyes. “Not _that_ kind of book, obviously. A fiction book. A romance novel. Like Miss Butterworth and the Mealy-mouthed Baron—”

“Mad Baron,” Hyacinth corrects her automatically.

“See?” Dr. D says triumphantly. “We can do much better.”

Hyacinth isn’t going to argue with that. They’ve been having an informal book club of sorts with this terrible old romance novel Dr. Danbury found left behind in one of her classrooms, and she’s been enjoying herself immensely, but that’s about as far as she’s willing to go with regards to putting Dr. D and romance novels together.

“We definitely can,” Hyacinth says, “but we’re not going to.”

Dr. D frowns. She’s not at all used to people openly disagreeing with her; Hyacinth is one of the few who do so regularly, and she knows it’s a large part of why Dr. D likes her so much. “Well, think about it,” she says firmly. “We’d make an excellent team in that regard, too.”

“Too?” comes a voice from the doorway. “Oh, I truly shudder to think what the two of you will be up to next.”

“Gareth!” Dr. Danbury says brightly, turning towards the door. “How nice of you to finally come visit me.”

Oh, no, Hyacinth thinks, weighted with melodrama worthy of Miss Butterworth herself. Not Gareth St. Clair. Not today.

Gareth steps into the room, looking stupidly handsome in a slightly rumpled suit paired with slightly rumpled hair. He returns the door to its closed-over state behind him; Dr. Danbury is obligated to keep her door open during office hours, but she does so as little as possible, reasoning that the students who really need to see her will be the ones brave enough to push past the mostly-closed door.

Gareth is Dr. Danbury’s grandson, and probably one of the most notorious people in town. His father is a successful businessman whose feud with his son is almost as famous as his several near-miss brushes with scandal and bankruptcy; his older son died unexpectedly several years ago, at which point Gareth had already gained a reputation as a juvenile delinquent on the edge of being disinherited, leaving his father in a deeply uncomfortable public position. Add in the family connection with Dr. Danbury, one of the most famous professors on campus, who’s thrown her support behind Gareth and made it clear that she thinks his father is an idiot who never should have married her daughter, and it makes the whole situation juicy indeed.

Hyacinth’s met Gareth a couple of times, given her connection with Dr. D, and found him… well, uncomfortable. He’s charming and smart and so handsome she sort of can’t believe he’s real, but he’s infuriating, provocative, and one of them only people who can ever leave her speechless or get in the last word over her, which she _hates._

He’s here, though, visiting his grandmother. That speaks pretty well of him, regardless of his reputation.

“Finally?” Gareth echoes, grinning at Dr. D. “I saw you last Friday. Are you—” He pulls a concerned face, turning to Hyacinth with wide eyes. “Do you think she’s losing her memory? She has to be, what, at least ninety by now—”

Dr. Danbury’s cane comes down on his toes. “Not even close,” she barks, and Gareth winces as he crosses the room to drop a kiss on her cheek. Again, Hyacinth wonders how bad he can possibly be, if he loves his grandmother so much.

“How fares Priscilla Butterworth?” Gareth asks, and Hyacinth chokes on air. He shoots a sideways grin at her, clearly pleased at having surprised her. “Yes, I know all about Miss Butterworth’s adventures. My grandmother regales me with them when I come visit her—every Wednesday, and most weekends as well, thank you very much.”

Hyacinth barely manages to suppress a smile.

Dr. Danbury sniffs condescendingly, her usual response to being proven wrong and not wanting to admit it. “Insolence aside,” she mutters, and pats Gareth’s hand, “you really are an exceptional grandson. Couldn’t have asked for more.”

She says it to Gareth, at whom it’s ostensibly directed; Hyacinth knows, though, that it’s being said for her benefit. Nothing would make Dr. Danbury happier than her favorite grandson dating her favorite (Hyacinth assumes) student. And given that she’s not a subtle person in the least, she’s hardly hidden this desire.

It’s not like Hyacinth even knows Gareth that well; they’ve only crossed paths a couple of times, and they’ve only ever had a couple of real conversations. She sort of likes him, in that he’s smart and funny and charming—not to mention blindingly gorgeous, which is always a good thing. But he’s annoying and she can never quite figure him out—not to mention that his reputation is awful. She’s not sure if the good outweighs the bad, and she’s not sure if she has any interest in trying to find out.

“Of course,” Dr. Danbury adds with a dismissive wave of her hand, “it’s not like he has much competition. The rest of them only have three brains to share among them.”

Both Hyacinth and Gareth suppress snorts, knowing full well that Dr. D has twelve grandchildren.

“So,” Dr. D continues, peering up at Gareth, “given that these are my Tuesday office hours—what brings you by?”

Gareth pauses for a moment, glancing from Hyacinth back to his grandmother, and Hyacinth is beginning to feel like she’s rather unnecessary.

But just as she’s about to offer to give them some privacy, and Dr. Danbury is demanding, “What is it, boy? Speak up!”, Gareth takes a step closer to Hyacinth and leans in, asking, “Why do you work with my grandmother?”

There are a few possible answers to this question—she’s successful, she’ll enhance Hyacinth’s professional reputation, she allows Hyacinth a certain freedom of expression that most professors wouldn’t—but the most relevant one is the one with which she replies. “Because I like her.”

And then she leans in and asks, “Why do you spend so much time with her?”

Gareth says, “Because she’s my—” and then he stops, hesitating. Then he tilts his head and says, slowly, as if it’s something he’s only just realizing, “I like her, too.”

Hyacinth nods, once. She appreciates that answer. “Good.”

And then they sit in silence for a moment, staring unblinkingly at one another. The moment feels important somehow, though all Hyacinth can think about is how blue and how piercing his eyes are.

“Not that I object to this line of conversation,” Dr. Danbury interrupts, loudly, “but what the hell are you two talking about?”

Hyacinth shrugs, doing her best to play it cool as she turns back to her laptop. “I have no idea. He asked me a question.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Gareth watching her with a curious look on his face, but she’s doing her best to ignore him and get back to work. If he asks her to excuse herself so that he can have a private moment with his grandmother, she’ll be happy to leave, but she’s going to wait until he does so, because she’s never claimed not to be nosy as hell.

But apparently her presence in the room isn’t an issue, because Gareth reaches into his pocket and pulls out a book, which he hands to Dr. Danbury.

“What’s this?”

“My other grandmother’s diary. Caroline brought it over this afternoon; it was with George’s things.”

Hyacinth winces in sympathy; by all accounts, despite Gareth’s contentious relationship with his father, he and his brother had been close. She can’t imagine living through the death of one of her siblings.

A pause as Dr. Danbury flips through the pages, then—“It’s in Italian.”

“Yes,” Gareth replies dryly, “I was aware.”

“I meant,” she asks impatiently, “why did you bring it to me? I don’t speak Italian.”

Gareth shrugs. “I thought finding a translator would be better and more efficient than running it through Google. And you’re always telling me you know everything and everyone.”

“You said that to me earlier today,” Hyacinth puts in helpfully, giving up on the pretense that she isn’t blatantly eavesdropping.

Dr. D glares at her, and Gareth says “Thank you” in much the same tone as he responded to his grandmother a minute ago, which bothers her. If he didn’t want her running commentary, he damn well could have asked her to leave the room.

“I was hoping you’d know someone,” he says, turning back to Dr. Danbury. “Someone who knows the language and who can be discreet.”

Dr. Danbury looks openly intrigued, but her expression is thoughtful when she turns back to the book, tapping her cane thoughtfully against the floor. “Hmmph. I suppose I could investigate in the language department, though I don’t know any of the Italian professors personally—”

“I know Italian,” Hyacinth interrupts, and both of them turn abruptly to face her.

“You’re kidding,” Gareth says flatly, and Dr. Danbury demands, “You do?”

Hyacinth can’t help an amused grin at Dr. D. “You don’t know everything about me,” she says, and to Gareth she says, “I’ve taken five semesters of it. I’m not perfectly fluent, but I’m pretty good. I’d be happy to do it.”

Gareth narrows his eyes at her for a moment, considering. Hyacinth straightens her back and does her best to appear trustworthy, like a person who will definitely not disseminate family secrets (which is true) and whose only motivation is the goodness of her heart and not her undying curiosity (which is very much not).

“And you’d swear not to tell anyone about anything you read in here?” he says, pointing to the book still in his grandmother’s hands.

“For God’s sake, Gareth,” Dr. Danbury mutters, clearly taking deep personal offense to any lack of trust he may have in Hyacinth, “it’s not like the woman was writing about wartime secrets.”

But Hyacinth thinks she gets it. She comes from a big, ridiculous, loving family which has very few secrets from one another, and over the course of her admittedly short life, she’s learned that they’re a bit of an anomaly, as these things go. And she’s learned that people who come from families with problems prefer those problems to be as quiet as possible—and surely the St. Clairs very definitely qualify as a family with problems.

Besides, she knows how to keep a secret. If Gareth is going to trust her with his grandmother’s diary, the least she can do is show him that that trust won’t be misplaced.

So she nods, once, solemnly. “Of course. Not even Dr. D, if you want.”

The woman in question lets out an appalled sound that could best be described as a squawk (which was the main reason Hyacinth had even said it), but Gareth is grinning, clearly intrigued. “A _highly_ tempting offer,” he murmurs, aiming the grin at his glaring grandmother, “but given she’s likely to undertake deeply unsavory measures to get the truth out of one of us—”

“Damn right,” Dr. Danbury mutters.

“—I think I can allow it,” he finishes, looking highly amused. He takes the diary from her and crosses the room to hand it to Hyacinth, who takes a moment to study its leatherbound cover and brittle pages.

He seems to be waiting for something, some kind of reassurance or promise, so she says solemnly, “I’ll take good care of it.” 

He nods, looking a little—well, not quite relieved, but a little more relaxed, which relieves _her,_ which is extremely annoying to realize. “Do you want me to just e-mail you the translation when I’m done?” she asks, forcing a businesslike tone in her voice. She finds she doesn’t want this to be getting too personal.

Gareth tips his head, thoughtful. “It’d be useful to have a full record of the translation,” he says thoughtfully, “but I don’t know if I’d want to wait until you were done to know what she’s writing about. Could you send it along as you work?”

Hyacinth is about to say yes without thinking, but then she has a much better idea. “Why don’t we meet every week so that I can keep you updated on what I’ve translated so far, and you can buy me lunch?”

Gareth arches an eyebrow, and behind him Dr. Danbury looks utterly delighted. “Hyacinth Bridgerton,” he says, slowly, exaggerating each syllable of her name, “are you asking me out?”

_“What?”_ Hyacinth practically yells, horrified to feel her face heating a little. “No!” She hears Dr. D cackling and curses herself for not thinking through how that would come across. “Of course not! But you don’t expect me to just do this out of the goodness of my heart with no compensation, do you?”

“I’m sure I’d never make that mistake,” Gareth mutters under his breath. Hyacinth ignores him.

“I’m a college senior with extremely high professional aspirations, Gareth. Anything that takes time away from my work has to be worth my while. If you’re paying me—well, sort of paying me—I’ll be incentivized to get the work done more quickly, which benefits both of us.”

Gareth looks deeply amused and not entirely convinced, but he does at least nod his agreement. “Fair enough. We’ll meet every week—”

“On Tuesdays, maybe?” Dr. Danbury offers, all innocence. “Right before my office hours?”

Hyacinth narrows her eyes at her, because she’s obviously doing this so she can grill Hyacinth for every detail and continue her matchmaking aims, but Gareth is nodding again and saying, “Works for me. Hyacinth?”

“Sure,” she says, and she knows it’s coming out a little too cheerily, but she can’t help herself. She has the feeling that this whole situation is snowballing just a little too far past what she can handle. (Not that she would ever admit that out loud. No one else is allowed to know or even suspect the existence of a thing she can’t handle.)

“Great.” And Gareth, to his credit, looks both relieved and grateful, and the smile he aims at Hyacinth is genuine, not to mention so dazzling it makes her a little breathless. “So I’ll see you next week, then. And good luck.”

It probably isn’t meant as a dare, but Hyacinth is still going to lean forward (ignoring the smug, triumphant look on Dr. Danbury’s face) to aim a rather dazzling grin of her own at Gareth and say, confidently, “Thanks, but I won’t need it.”


End file.
